


Same As The Old Boss

by lettered



Series: Supernatural Writers' Room [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Gen, Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 09:12:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettered/pseuds/lettered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic is for any of you who ever wondered how this crazy show got so crazy.  Writers and producers sit around hashing out what to do for season 7, and come up with (spoilers for 7.01).  It's like meta, scrawled on the fourth wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Same As The Old Boss

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://my-daroga.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://my-daroga.dreamwidth.org/)**my_daroga** who deserves credit for Gamble’s position.
> 
> Not only is it not real, it’s not researched at all.

“So,” said Sera, writing with a shiny black marker on the whiteboard. “Castiel. God.”

“Use red,” said one of the Bens. No one knew which one at this point. Ben Edlund kept saying that he’d been there long enough to not be just, “one of the Bens;” he was an executive producer for God’s sake, and the other Bens were new, but then someone pointed out he’d “been” there long enough, and someone else pointed out Misha Collins was effectively God, so. Misha Collins tweeted it and here he was.

“There’s going to be a lot of blood,” said another Ben.

“Gonna get messy,” said another Ben.

“No,” said Joe. No one actually called him McG. “She’s right. Black and white. Angels have always been black and white.”

“Yes, thank you Joe,” said Sera. “Castiel. God. He’s very literal, so—”

“Oh, no,” said Joe. “I was just thinking more of a racial thing.”

“Christ,” said Becky. She was Eric’s assistant. That meant she could make disbelieving comments over near the door. Especially whenever Joe was talking. Or opening his mouth, really, even though it was usually to put a danish into it. “Seriously?”

“Getting back to Castiel,” said Sera, “who is God.”

“It could be about text,” said Julie. Julie was story editor. “Like, the text of the Bible. Black and white.”

“I like it,” Eric said suddenly. He’d been nursing coffee. Everyone was pretty sure it was a hang-over; they were just too polite to say. “Title card. Black and white. Ink blot effect. Let’s do it. Talk to Ivan.”

“Ivan doesn’t do the title credit,” said Becky.

“I’m writing in a marker,” said Sera, trying to figure out how the subject had gotten so far away from the point. “On a whiteboard.”

“It’s done,” said Eric, and drank more coffee. “Title credit. It’s going to be awesome. You’ll see. Next.”

“Still say it should be red,” said one of the Bens.

“Jesus fuck,” said Sera. “Does someone else wanna write?”

“Losing your temper already?” said Joe. “It must be Tuesday.”

“I’m not lost. My temper isn’t lost,” said Sera. “I just don’t wanna write. Adam, you write.”

“What?” said Adam. Adam was sort of shy, which was probably why even though he was a writer he said, “I’m not gonna write.”

“You’re the creepy, quiet type, you write.” Sera tossed him the marker and sat down, reaching over taking a swig from Eric’s mug.

“This is how it’s gonna be all year,” said Daniel, sadly. Daniel always kept a pad in front of him for writing down ideas, but so far his idea this was that this was how it was going to be all year. Maybe Dean could say that line. It could be sad.

Adam got up and looked at the board. “I don’t know what to write.”

“Do you guys even realize how tricky this is?” said Julie. “I mean. Castiel is God.”

Adam looked at the board. “Sera already wrote that.”

“I know,” said Julie. “But I mean, he’s God. Do you realize how many Christian types could be at our throats?”

“But that’s the brilliance of it,” said Sera, pushing Eric’s empty mug back toward him. “Because we get to do God, without doing God. We get to talk about all that fucked up shit; we get to address it, but no one can touch us. Because in the end, we can say, ‘It’s not God. It’s Castiel.’”

“All very well if you’re Jewish,” said Joe.

“Seriously?” said Becky. “Are you serious?” Becky had gotten Eric the coffee. She’d gotten everyone coffee, actually. Everyone except Joe.

But Joe had a danish and that made him happy.

“It doesn’t matter what you are,” said Sera. “Because it’s a story about power. It’s about power corrupting absolutely, etc, but it’s not a _new_ power. It’s the oldest power in the book.”

“It is the Book,” said Joe, chewing his danish.

“Yes, thank you,” said Sera, because she could hear the capital letters, but she didn’t actually care for them when she was trying to make a point. “It’s the Book. So, you get to talk about the problem of God, how someone being that absolute, that almighty, can be horrible, about how if everything in the Torah or Old Testament or whatever text you want, if all of that was true—”

“I said you should’ve used red,” said one of the Bens. He was the helpful Ben.

“If all of that is true,” said Sera, “what you’ve got is a clusterfuck.”

“Collins’ll love that,” said Bob.

“What?” said one of the Bens.

“Clusterfucking,” said Bob. “Collins will love it.”

“Heh,” said Eric. “You said clusterfucking.” Then he looked around for more coffee.

“Oh, God,” said Bob. “Collins. Clusterfucking. He’s going to tweet about orgies. He’s gonna tweet about orgies, isn’t he?”

“Probably,” said Jenny, because really, Bob had brought it on himself. Jenny was the writers’ assistant. Sometimes she and Becky just sat in the back and talked about how gay everything was. Somehow half their lines made it into the scripts, but Becky was too nice to call anyone on it.

“Collins is crazy,” said Bob.

Jenny shrugged. “Fans love him.”

“But he’s crazy,” said Bob.

“So,” said Sera. “Back to Castiel. Being God.”

“We _were_ talking about Castiel being God,” said Jenny. “He’s crazy.”

“God isn’t crazy,” said Sera.

“Remember the blood,” said one of the Bens. He was also helpful, or maybe he was the helpful Ben.

“Told you you should’ve used red,” said another Ben. They were possibly all helpful.

“No,” said Sera. “God is by the book. We already said that. He is the book. Black and white. Come on. Eric made the title credit black and white.”

“Because it’ll look cool,” said Bob.

“Eric,” said Sera. “A little help.”

“What?” said Eric. He twitched a little. He might have been sleeping. “It will look cool.”

“Oh my God,” said Sera.

“You mean Misha,” said a Ben. “’Oh my Mish—‘”

Sera rubbed her temples. “Can we just get to the part where we’re examining the repercussions of religion, and the—the inanity of having absolute statements being written in a book? Castiel goes around doing things like—like curing lepers, and killing New Agers—”

“Killing New Agers,” said Daniel. He scribbled something on his paper, right under Dean saying sadly that he just never caught a break, ever. He really liked it when Dean was sad. “That’s awesome.”

“Um,” said Adam. “Should I put that on the board?”

“He should kill motivational speakers,” said Eric. Becky had brought him more coffee. He was also feeling helpful.

“Oh,” said Joe, who still had his danish. “He should kill used car salesmen.”

“What about the hypocrites?” said Julie. “You’d think he’d kill—well, a lot of religious people, who say they’re religious, but who don’t, you know, really follow the messages of Jesus. Or whatever.”

“Like motivational speakers,” said Eric, who still had coffee.

“Okay,” said Sera. “Finally. We’re getting somewhere. This is good, Julie. So, like what did you have in mind? You mean Castiel would kill, for instance, the right wing. Like ultra conservative politicians, maybe.”

“Killing politicians is good,” said Eric. He had lots of coffee. “Killing politicians is awesome. Let’s kill politicians.”

“Right,” said Julie. “But I also mean, like . . . you could have preachers preaching against . . . oh, say, abortion, or something. And Castiel comes and smites them, because that’s not actually God’s message. It doesn’t have to be abortion, if we don’t want to touch that. It could be . . .”

“Incest,” said Joe. He actually had a second dansih; he’d actually brought one. It had been in his briefcase until now.

Joe was the only one who had a briefcase.

Eric just started laughing. He had had so much coffee. “Yeah. Have them preach against incest.”

“Then Misha Collins strikes them down,” said Joe, waving his danish.

“And Misha says he approves incest,” said Eric, waving his coffee mug. “They shouldn’t preach against incest, it’s totally okay with God.”

“And we cover our ass by saying it isn’t God. It’s Castiel,” said Joe.

Eric almost spit out his coffee. There would have been gallons of it. Everywhere. “That’s brilliant.”

“I know,” said Joe. “Can you believe that shit? They think we’ll _write_ it.”

“But Joe,” said Eric. “They _love_ each other.”

“Look, I’m sorry, I know you love the show, but they _are_ brothers.”

“It doesn’t matter when there’s true love!”

“I don’t get it,” said one of the Bens.

“I don’t get it either,” said another Ben.

“It’s the fans,” explained Helpful Ben. “You wouldn’t get it. You’re new.”

“Um. But incest?” said the first Ben.

Helpful Ben sighed. “They—I don’t know. Sam and Dean are close, fans are crazy, one thing leads to another . . .”

“The fans want incest?” said the second Ben.

“The fans don’t know what they want,” said Joe, quellingly. He was finishing the danish.

“The fans want Castiel, and God, and we were having this whole conversation,” said Sera. “This whole productive conversation.”

“Oh, what?” said Eric, sipping his coffee. “Did we derail?”

“The fans want motivational speakers,” said Joe.

“He put that on the board,” said Helpful Ben.

“Okay,” said Sera. “So we’ve got Castiel, killing according to the word of the Lord, except it’s his interpretation of the Lord. So, he’s okay with some things. Like abortion. No. No, wait. Wait, Eric, you’re a genius.”

“Yes.” Eric sipped more coffee. “What?”

“We can do it.”

“We can’t do incest.” Eric looked around. “Did you all get that memo? We can’t do incest.”

“Shut up, Eric,” said Sera. “No one’s doing incest. We’re not touching incest with a ten foot pole.”

“Except when we sort of touch it all the time,” said Jenny.

“No,” said Sera. “We don’t do incest. Homosexuality.”

“Sera,” said Julie. “You’re a genius.”

“I know,” said Sera. “That’s what I said.”

“Okay,” said Daniel. “I’m really uncomfortable with equating incest to—”

“Forget the incest already,” said Sera. “Jesus. It’s like there are fans in this room, or something.”

“They probably think they can write the show,” said Joe.

“As long as they don’t write me,” said Adam. He sounded afraid.

“Write?” said a Ben.

“Some fans write,” said Helpful Ben.

“But they write about the show,” said another Ben. “You mean, like fanfic.”

“Well,” said Helpful Ben.

“There’s Jared and Jensen,” said Jenny.

“And Collins,” said Bob. “Don’t forget Collins.”

“How come he’s always ‘Collins’ with you?” said Daniel.

“Because he’s crazy,” said Bob. “Misha Collins is crazy.”

“Wait,” said a Ben. “You’re saying fans write about real people?”

“You be careful with that Twitter,” said Helpful Ben. “They could be writing you right now.”

“What? Why?”

“Who knows,” said Eric.

“Because they’re crazy,” said Joe.

“Just like Collins,” said Bob.

“That’s nice,” said Sera. “So what we have is a guy preaching against homosexuality, and Castiel walks in, and—”

“Smite,” said Eric.

Sera smiled. “Yup.”

“I said it once,” said Julie, “and I’ll say it again. You’re a genius.”

“You thought of it,” said Sera.

“Yeah,” said Julie, “but I did not come up with the fan service angle.”

“I believe that was _moi_ ,” said Eric.

“Fan service?” said a Ben.

“It’s the show, basically,” said Helpful Ben.

“What do you mean?” said the other Ben.

“Well, we shout out to the fans,” said Helpful Ben.

The Bens looked thoughtful. Finally one of them, brow furrowed, said, “That’s nice. But if you do that too much, don’t you sort of—”

“Lose sight of the mission?” said Sera.

The Bens all looked up guiltily. They didn’t know she’d been listening.

“Here’s the thing with _Supernatural_ ,” said Sera. “You don’t know because you’re new. But here’s the thing: a point is best made subtly. But if you can’t make it subtly, you might as well beat it over the head until it bleeds. Then at least everyone will be amused.”

Eric frowned, looking vaguely thoughtful. His coffee was at the dregs. “That’s our philosophy?”

“That’s my philosophy,” said Sera. “I just never told you.”

“Oh.” Eric was still frowning down into his mug. “Why not?”

“Because,” said Sera. “I can’t count on you to be subtle.”

Daniel had been scribbling on his notepad the whole time. “Can Castiel say he’s utterly indifferent to the issue of sexuality?”

“Collins is going to love that,” said Bob.

“It’s better than orgies,” Daniel pointed out.

“Better than clusterfucking,” said Joe, giving Eric the rest of his danish.

Eric looked up. “It’s awesome. It’s done. Homosexuality. Write it on the board.”

“I,” said Daniel.

“Misha Collins is indifferent to the issue of sexuality,” said Eric. “It’s done. Next.”

“He means Castiel,” said a Ben in an undertone to Helpful Ben. “Castiel is indifferent to the issue of sexuality.”

“Yeah,” said Helpful Ben. “But he also means Misha. That’s why it’s fan service.”

“Don’t forget the Dean/Cas shippers,” said Jenny in a stage whisper.

“There’s that,” said Helpful Ben.

“Misha?” said the first Ben.

“You will learn,” said Helpful Ben.

“Collins,” said Bob. “He’s crazy.”

“That’s it.” Eric waved the danish. “We have to use that.”

“What?” said Daniel. He could tell Eric had an idea, and it was making him excited.

“What?” said Sera. She could tell Eric had an idea, and it was making her anxious.

“What?” said Adam. He could tell he was going to have to write something, and it was making him terrified.

“Misha Collins is crazy,” said Eric.

“I’ve been telling you for years,” said Bob.

“No,” said Eric. “We have to use it. Misha Collins is crazy.”

“Remember what I said about God?” said Sera. “Adam, write down what I said about God. God’s not crazy. He’s by the book.”

“That’s the thing,” said Eric, reaching out and taking the new mug Becky brought him. “Misha Collins is crazy. He has to be crazy.”

“It’s true,” said Daniel. “He doesn’t really get to be crazy on screen.”

“Because real life’s enough,” said Bob.

“No,” said Eric. He ate the danish and drank the coffee, double-fisted. “It’s not. He doesn’t get to be crazy. So, this season, he’s gonna get to be crazy.”

“Did you not listen to what I said about God?” said Sera. “We can explore Biblical religion. We can finally talk about Jesus.”

“We couldn’t talk about Jesus?” said a Ben.

“Too controversial,” said Helpful Ben.

“Oh,” said the other Ben. “That’s what she keeps saying about getting to talk about God because it’s Castiel.”

“Exactly,” said Helpful Ben.

“See?” said Sera. “We could even make Castiel be Jesus. We could have him become the new Jesus. He could change Judiac imagery to be himself, and then we can talk about—”

“Oh,” said Eric. “Let’s do that too. Stained glass window. Jesus. Becomes Castiel. Get Ivan on it.”

“That’s not Ivan,” said Becky.

“Whatever,” said Eric. “It’s done. Stained glass trench coat. I’m a genius.”

“Castiel can’t be crazy,” said Sera, stubbornly.

“That’s it. It’s done,” said Eric. “Castiel is crazy. Next.”

“I’m the show runner,” said Sera.

“You were the show runner last season,” said Eric.

“You can’t unshow runner me, Eric. You’re not actually in charge.”

“I know. I mean you were show runner last year, and you wanted Sam to be soulless. You got Sam soulless. And look where that got us.”

“Awesome?” said Sera. “You mean it got you awesome?”

“They hated it. Fans hated it.”

“What?” said Sera, spinning a little in her swivel chair with the force of her disbelief. “What? Are you serious? They loved it. They loved it!”

“She’s right,” said Jenny. “Everyone loves Robo Sam.”

“Yeah,” said Eric. “Everyone loves Robo Sam. They love Robo Sam after they figure it out. After you explain it. That’s the thing. You can’t go for seven episodes without explaining it. It gets boring.”

“Maybe we made a mistake with season six,” said Sera.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” said Julie. “I loved it.”

“I liked it too,” said Daniel.

“We got renewed,” said Joe. He had no danish.

“But it’s boring,” said Eric. “You can’t leave something for too long. Evil Castiel, they don’t get it. They don’t like it. Remember season four.”

“I liked dark Sam, too,” said Julie.

“Me too,” said Daniel.

“No one else did,” said Joe.

“Yeah,” said Eric. “No one else did. No one wants God Castiel.”

“I want God Castiel,” said Sera. “God Castiel makes sense. You need to have God Castiel. At least until Christmas.”

“Remember Robo Sam.”

“Thanksgiving then. Just give me until Thanksgiving.”

“Thanksgiving isn’t a Christian holiday,” said Eric.

“Until Thanksgiving, Eric,” said Sera. “Let Castiel be God until Thanksgiving. It’s a way to comment on—”

“You keep saying that,” said Eric. “Do fans want God? No. They want turkey. They want Misha Collins.”

“Crazy,” said Bob.

“Crazy,” said Eric.

“You can’t do it,” said Sera. “It’s not in character.”

“What, he has like, fifty million souls in him or whatever,” said Eric. “He can do it. Anything’s in character.”

“Going crazy is not in character,” said Sera. “He’s not _possessed_. He’s drunk with power. He’s—he’s to the extreme. But he’s still Castiel.”

“Oh,” said Eric. “Good point.”

“It’s a great point.”

“So we possess him,” said Eric.

“I—what?” Sera looked about ready to leap across the table.

“Let’s possess Castiel,” said Eric. “Let’s just kill Castiel, and one of the souls or whatever, that possesses him.”

“One of the souls?” said Daniel. “How does that work?”

“One of the souls is crazy,” said Joe.

“The souls were in Purgatory,” said Eric, giving Joe his coffee as a sign of affiliation.

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Am I hearing this?” said Sera.

“Leviathan,” said Adam.

“It can be a crazy thing from Purgatory,” said Joe, drinking Eric’s coffee.

“Oh my God, yes,” said Eric, eating Joe’s danish. “A crazy thing from Purgatory!”

“Leviathan,” Adam said again.

“Really, guys?” said Sera. “You want a crazy thing from Purgatory? Not God?”

“God’s not crazy enough,” said Eric.

“You wouldn’t have God, or an examination of religion,” said Daniel, “but you would have Misha Collins.” He was sort of apologetically looking at Sera. “I mean, it would be really fun to have him be crazy.”

“He never really gets to do facial expressions,” Jenny pointed out.

“Yeah,” said Bob. “He does enough off camera.”

“It has to be something we haven’t done yet,” said Joe, waving around Eric’s mug.

“Something Biblical,” Eric agreed, waving around Joe’s danish. “Something from Purgatory.”

“Leviathan,” said Adam.

“That’s it!” said Eric. “Leviathan! That’s perfect.”

“Seriously?” said Sera.

“If we do this,” said Julie, also looking apologetically at Sera, “Are we at least gonna address the serpent issue?” said Julie.

“What serpent issue?” said one of the Bens.

Helpful Ben shrugged. “Beats me.”

“The serpent,” said Julie. “The Mother of all was Eve. She lived in Purgatory. When she was let out, she created this worm that made people evil. It’s all so Biblical. You could write so many tie-in about Eden, and Lucifer, and temptation, and serpents.”

“She’s the only one who thinks about that kinda thing,” said Helpful Ben.

“Hey,” said Sera.

“And Sera,” said Helpful Ben.

“No,” said Eric. “No. Eve is season six. Season seven, Leviathan. Oh my God. This is so cool. A Leviathan!”

“Leviathans are serpentine,” said Julie, but she sounded sort of faded.

“Have you even ever read Hobbes?” said Sera, scathingly.

“Who?” said Eric. “The stuffed tiger?”

“Whatever,” said Sera. “Just whatever. Leviathan. Adam. Write it on the board.”

“I did,” said Adam. “I thought of it.”

“Eric thought of it,” one of the Bens pointed out.

“No,” said Adam. “I—”

“I can’t believe I thought of that,” said Eric. “A Leviathan! It’s going to be so Biblical! It’s just like _Clash of the Titans!_!”

“ _Clash of the Titans_ is not Biblical,” said Julie.

“Don’t,” said Sera. “Just don’t. Don’t even try.”

*

Becky always sent a memo after storyboarding, just to keep the actors up to date. There weren’t any scripts yet, of course. Later Sera would get the actors in a room and give them the major spoilers with preliminaries on directions for their characters, but for now there was the memo.

“Oh my God,” said Misha, looking at his memo. “I’m God!”

“You sort of knew that,” Jensen pointed out.

“But I’m God. I’m like really God.”

“Tweet it, why don’t you,” said Jensen.

“No, you’re not,” said Jared.

“Am too God. Take it back.”

“You’re not,” said Jared. “Look further down.”

“Why do you always read the end first?” said Jensen.

“I wanna know what they’re gonna do to me,” said Jared.

“You?” Jensen frowned at him. “What about me? I’m the one who has to cry all the time.”

“I’m . . .” Misha was frowning at the paper. “I’m not God. I—they killed me off.”

“Misha, you can’t get killed off,” said Jensen. “You have a contract.”

“Look,” said Misha. “I’m killed off. I mean, Castiel is killed off.”

“But you come back,” said Jared.

“Yeah.” Misha was still frowning at the memo. “And I’m crazy.”

“Hey!” said Jensen. “You’ll get to make facial expressions.”

“I know.”

“What? You’ve always wanted to make facial expressions.”

“You have so many,” Jared agreed.

“At least he can do more than twitch his mouth,” said Jensen.

“I do more than twitch my mouth!” said Jared. “Besides. All you do is cry. And you can’t even do that; you have to use the drops!”

“I never use drops,” said Misha.

Jensen wasn’t sure he understood what language everyone was speaking sometimes. “You never have to cry!”

“But if I did,” said Misha, “I would never have to use drops.”

“He can make expressions,” said Jared.

“Whatever,” said Jensen. “I bet you’re gonna have to twitch your mouth so much, recovering from Hell. Dude, why do you looks so upset, Misha? If Castiel is dead, they’ll probably just bring him back. Meanwhile, you’re a . . .” He scanned the memo. “You’re an ancient Biblical monster thing. What’s not to love?”

“I know,” said Misha, sadly. “I just . . . I sort of wanted to be God.”

“God, here we go,” said Jensen.

“And now I don’t even get to tweet about it.”

“Just wait until the episode airs,” said Jared. “Then tweet.”

“I know,” said Misha. “It’s just. Fans think I’m God.”

“And here we are,” said Jensen.

“They don’t think you’re God,” said Jared.

“In fact,” said Jensen, “fans are probably writing right now about how you’re not God.”

“I know,” said Misha, “but that means they’re writing me having sex with you.”

“I wish you would just not say those things.”

“Why wouldn’t they write you having sex with me?” said Jared.

“We’ve had this conversation,” said Misha. “We don’t have chemistry.”

“We have chemistry. I can chemistry you.”

“Listen to how he speaks to me.”

“Honestly,” said Jensen. “I’m trying not to.”

“You really think fans are writing about Misha having sex as we speak?”

“God,” said Jensen. “Stop.”

“You’re the one who said it,” said Misha.

“Does it have to be sex, though?” Jared wanted to know.

“What?” said Misha. “You think they’re gonna write us standing around talking?”

“They probably imagine we stand around and talk about them,” said Jensen.

“Why would we talk about them?” said Jared.

“I talk about them,” said Misha.

Jensen was looking over the page. “Jesus. Who writes this crap?”

Jared said, “Just be glad.”

“It’s not the fans,” said Misha.


End file.
